


A Childhood Taken

by TheLanternWretch



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Abuse, Backstory, Gen, History, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 09:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16930368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLanternWretch/pseuds/TheLanternWretch
Summary: A quick breeze through Thresh's childhood, covering a few major events that lead him to where he is today and why. Peek into the past of the notorious Chain Warden as a mere child on the Blessed Isles.





	1. Promise of a Horse

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, as stated before, these are my personal head canons of who Thresh was before he was undead, the life he lived, etc. that came straight from my roleplaying blog. The character who would become the League Champion, Thresh, is named Arrin in the story - Thresh being a family last name.

“Arrin! Arrin, come on back, sweetheart! It’s time to leave!” The woman climbed over the dunes, enjoying the feeling of the warm sand between her toes and spitting out the pale blond strands of hair that blew into her face. “Aaarriiiiin!” She called down to the shore a second time, putting a hand up to her face to try and spot her little one in the waves. As if right on cue, a small boy surfaced in the waves, waving to her, his voice inaudible over the roar of the ocean.

She waved her hand eagerly, smiling, aware he could only barely hear her. Myra’s smile faded as her son turned his back on the ocean to run toward her, completely ignoring the large wave that had started to form behind him. “ARRIN!” She picked up her robes and hurried down onto the beach. “ARRIN, WATCH OUT-!” She cried, but her son disappeared under the wave and disappeared into the foam. The mother bustled over as quick as she could, bare feet sinking into the sand, only sighing in relief when she saw the child roll onto the beach, coughing up the sea water and laying in a heap on his side.

“Arrin.” She said, huffing, as soon as she got to him. “What did I tell you about the ocean?” She questioned, grabbing under his arms and helping him up.

“You told me… uh…-” He paused to hack up a little bit more saltwater, his face contorting as he felt the crunch of sand between his teeth. “- Uhhh.. ‘Never turn your back on the sea!’” He recalled proudly, spitting grit out from his mouth.

“And you just did that, didn’t you?”

“Yes, momma.”

“Are you going to remember next time?”

“Yes, momma!” 

“Good.” She smiled, helping to brush him off before taking his hand in hers and leading him away from the shore to help him wiggle his clothes back on. “Did you have a good birthday?” She asked, stopping to help lift him over the dunes so he wouldn’t slide everywhere. 

“I did!” He squealed, grinning ear to ear. “My favorite was the strawberries!” He decided. They had went to the market and he was allowed to pick out one thing. He decided on a few pounds of freshly picked strawberries since the ones his dad planted didn’t grow as well as they would have hoped. Myra thought they would have made something with them - a cake, a pie, biscuits, but no. Arrin grabbed the basket and ran off with them, giggling madly. She couldn’t find him, but he eventually came back with an empty basket and complaints that his belly hurt. The birthday celebrations were put on hold so he could nap off the too many strawberries he had munched on.

A trip to the beach was the last thing he wanted for this 7th birthday. That was something very easily done and something he asked for every year. Arrin could never get enough of the salty air, the hot sand, the feeling of being near the shore. Myra shrugged and assumed it was from his Father - the man came from somewhere near the Blue Flame Isles north from the Blessed Isles. He arrived on a trading mission with a crew of a few other men and became rather smitten with the Blessed Isles, eventually finding Myra and settling down with his own patch of land. Together, they built a rather decent sized farm and enjoyed working hard, bringing only their best crops to market and raising a variety of animals to be sold for labor or slaughtered for meat.

Arrin was a surprise to the both of them, but one that they both cherished. He took after his father in appearance with his dark tan skin and thick shiny black hair that hung like a curtain from his head. He was a tough little thing, a little large for his size, and had good strong legs and arms. The only thing he had from his mother was her eyes - they were a soft gentle green unlike his father’s dark brown irises. Together they knew they made a rather beautiful child; Samuel guessed that he could grow up to be a rather handsome bugger with his mother’s charm. Only time would tell.

“Momma?” Arrin tugged on Myra’s hand, beaming up at her, “Will Daddy be home? I saved a strawberry for him!” 

“You saved him a strawberry and not me?” She pretended to sound insulted as she hoisted him up onto the their family’s horse, Willow. 

“Yeah, because he let me feed the chickens all by myself today!” He said, proudly, puffing out his chest as though to show how much of a man he’d become at the big ol’ age of 7. 

“Ahhh, yes, the chickens and the cows and Willow and the pigs…” She rolled her eyes. “Arrin, those weren’t rewards. Those are going to be your chores.” She corrected him, putting her foot into the the stirrups and hoisting herself up onto the palomino, getting herself settled before she felt Arrin wrap his arms around her waist. He pressed his cheek into her back and hummed. “Well I liked it. I like to feed the animals.” He stated, his feet swinging alongside the horse as he started to pout.

“I know you do, though you need to be a little more gentle with them. You know, if you do a good job and learn how to handle them a little nicer, maybe…” She started, thinking. “Maybe you’ll get your own horse some day.” 

“Really?!” His little fingers curled into the back of her robes as he practically vibrated with excitement. “I want a black one! Or a grey one! Or one like Willow! Or, or, or, can I get a red one? Do they make horses in colors?! I want a blue one.” He decided, sounding final. “I want a blue one or a black one.” 

“Honey, horses aren’t blue.” Myra laughed, nudging the sides of her mount. The horse nickered and started to trot along toward home. 

“Oh.” He paused, his pouting continuing after being told no for a technicolor horse. “Then black will do, I suppose.” 

“I’ll see what we can do. But first, you have to prove you’re responsible enough to own one.”


	2. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrin's life continues as he faces a mild bump in the road common to small children.

“Mommy? Dad?” Arrin sniffled, holding his feather pillow in his hands as he nervously twisted the fabric between his fingers. There was movement inside the bedroom before the door opened, his mother looking down at him, yawning. 

“What’s wrong, Arrin?” She asked, stooping down.

He didn’t say and instead proceeded to cry, hiding his face into the pillow shamefully. 

“Ooh, was it another accident?” Myra asked, petting his head soothingly as he nodded. “Honey, that’s alright. It happens. Come on, we’ll go get you cleaned up.” She stood up, turning her head to look at her husband still in the bed. “Sam, you get a choice. Bed sheets or Arrin.”

“I got the bed sheets last time.” He grunted, finally rolling over. “I thought he was over this bed wetting thing.” He grumbled, tossing his legs over the side of the bed to stand up.

“Be nice. He’s not the only kid who has this problem.” Myra warned, wanting to keep Arrin from feeling bad even more than he already did. She turned back to him and kissed him on top of his head, his crying coming to a pause. “Daddy will get you cleaned up and I’ll get your bed, okay?” 

He nodded, giving her the pillow and following his father down the hallway, his bare feet making little slaps on the stone floor as he kept up with his dad. 

“Come on, son. Right into the water barrel you go.” Sam said, trying to sound more awake than he actually was. They went outside and the man popped the top off a water barrel, plopping his son into the cool water. Arrin stood in it, shivering, as his dad handed him a soft bristled brush. “Might as well wash everything while you’re there, then mom won’t wake you up early for a second bath, right?” 

“Yeah!” He quickly began to scrub his legs, his mood increasing with every second he spent in the spare water barrel, the sounds of his mother filling a wash tub from a nearby pump letting him know that his favorite blankets would soon be clean and dry again.

“When you’re done, I think there’s a few fireflies left before the dawn chases them away. You want to catch a few?” Samuel asked.

“Can I streak one on the ground and watch the smudge glow?” He asked hopefully.

“No, fireflies are good bugs, remember? We treat them nice.”

“Okaaay.” He finished scrubbing and took a deep breath, disappearing into the water barrel and popping back out, his hair dripping wet and plastered to his face. He raised his arms, his father pulling him out and plopping him onto the stones. “Oh, shoot, i forgot - one minute, son. Stay there.” Samuel stood up and quickly ran back into the house to look for something to dry Arrin off with.

The child stood there, humming, laughing when his mother came over with a bucket of fresh water. “Did you not rinse off in clean water? I’m going to kill your father.” She joked, dumping the bucket over his head. He laughed, shaking his head like a wet dog would before his dad came back out with a thick bit of cloth to dry his son off with. 

Once he was dried off and slid into a clean night gown, his dad smiled. “So about those fireflies-”

“I’m gonna catch one first!” 

The kid took off with his dad in hot pursuit.


	3. Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unfortunate accident leads to Arrin being hurt and signals the start of issues between his parents.

Samuel panicked as he watched his son hit the ground, blood gushing from his temple. “MYRA! MYRA, GET HERE QUICK!” He hollered, throwing his tools aside and shooing their horse, Willow, away. The cranky mare whinnied and took off toward the field, dashing through the gate and into her paddock to chew on the fresh clover near the fence on the other side of the enclosure.

Myra came, hurtling around the corner, her emerald eyes wide with fear as she saw her husband bent down over their motionless son. “SAM!? SAM, WHAT HAPPENED?!” She demanded, putting the sleeve of her work robes into her mouth and tearing off a large wad that she handed to him. Quickly, he put it over the wound and pressed down hard, Arrin only groaning in response before falling quiet again.

“I was teaching him how to take care of Willow.” He explained, trying to keep his nervousness under control. “I figured if he wanted his own horse someday, he should learn how to care for one! You know, grooming them and checking their hooves and the like.” He said, clarifying the situation as Myra bent down to check their son over. “I told him to be careful, Willow didn’t like anyone touching her underbelly for too long. He was only brushing her and she seemed like she was doing well!”

Myra looked at the edges of a bruise that were already starting to blacken on the side of his head. “I told you we should have waited; we should have used another horse. She’s too unpredictable! I mean, how many times did she kick you already?” She snapped, the concern for her son overriding any sense of trying to be be kind or gentle to her husband at the moment.

“Look, she hasn’t kicked me in months! I thought she was over it!” Sam explained, shifting the fabric around to press a less bloody side against him. “We need to get bandages and ointment.” He muttered “That was a good hoof to the head but it looks like the cut isn’t that bad.” The man moved the fabric around, dabbing and inspecting. “But I’m worried about his head. What if that really rattled his brains?” He worried. “I don’t want him to become lame and unable to speak, or, you know, turn out not right.”

“Sam, Sam, it’s fine.” She tried to convince him while also telling herself the same thing. “He’s a tough kid. He’s gotten banged up before. He’s nearly ten, he’ll bounce back. Come on, let’s get him inside the house.” Keeping the cloth firmly on his head, the two of them carefully hoisted up their limp child and carried him into the house.


	4. Breeding and Arguments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Arrin works toward owning the horse he always wanted, his family continues to fall apart.

As Arrin grew, he noticed certain things had started to change.

His parents, once so in love, had devolved into constantly bickering. This usually happened once they thought he went to sleep, though how they expected him to sleep through their yelling was beyond him. He spent many nights tossing and turning, pulling a blanket over his head to try and block out the sounds and pleading and whimpering from his parent’s room down the small hallway or the yelling. There were a few times when he got up, he went into the kitchen to see his mother busy at their cooking range with the side of her face bruised up. 

There was always an excuse whenever he asked about it. Sometimes, she’d admit she was lost in thought and bumped into something real good. Another time, she claimed he got herself good in the mouth with a heavy iron cooking pot as she pulled it down from a shelf. He didn’t believe her, not for one second, and kept asking if Dad did it. She would only shake her head and ask him not to be so ridiculous and then started to tell him what needed to be done that way before dropping a filling breakfast in front of him and giving him a soft kiss on top of his head.

He was eleven now and had taken on more duties. He was in charge of almost all the animals but Willow. It seemed you get kicked once and suddenly, your parents don’t want you to learn how to tame the animal that lashed out at you. Still, he didn’t mind.He’d probably be getting his own horse any time now. There was a sweet piebald that a neighbor had who was ready to be bred. They were looking for a good strong stallion to impregnate her to see if the colt would be anything good. Arrin secretly hoped so - he liked that horse. Her name was Lillith and she was a good girl. He was waiting for her to give birth to the eventual foal before bravely asking his parents for that baby … maybe.

He offered to help their neighbor with the process, learning how to assist the two creatures. He was taught to tie back tails and secure the mare, to help the sire aim should he need, to walk the mare around afterwards. The process was weird, but it eventually led to the pregnant mare they were hoping for. Arrin waited, sometimes running over before finishing his chores to check on her to see if there was any baby yet.

“Arrin!” Their neighbor laughed. “Its only been a few weeks! It’s going to take more time then that!”

“i know, I just.. I’m.. I’m really excited!” He admitted, grinning ear to ear. He had talked to him about possibly buying the foal and, should it not be what he wanted, Arrin had first consideration before it went to market.

Of course, this caused another argument.

“I told you, he’s not ready for a horse!” Snapped his mother late one night after they had to go looking for him, only to find him snoozing in the hay next to Lillith as she slept, her swollen belly looking promising.

“He’s a young boy, now! He needs to learn responsibility! Besides, a second horse around here would be a big help! Let him get one and train it. We can have two plows running at once and if one of us need to use Willow, the other two won’t be stranded without a -”

“Willow. Yeah, you remember what she did to him?” She snapped. “He could have died and now you want to put him in harms way even further by giving him a horse of his own to always be around!?”

“Woman! Listen! That was an accident and it happens to anyone that owns a horse! Just because it happened once doesn’t mean he should never have a second chance!”

The yelling became incoherent as the two started screaming over each other. Arrin winced and held the pillow over his head, his eyes snapping open as he heard a slap and a shriek. The sounds of yet another beating continued and a knot formed in his stomach. This time, he was sure the bruises his mother would wear would be his fault. They were arguing about him. His fault.

His fault.


	5. The New Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrin finally gets his wish. Are things finally turning around?

“Isn’t she beautiful?” Arrin asked, leading the small foal over to his mother. She smiled tiredly as her son paraded the little filly around. She proved to be a bit too high spirited than what their neighbor had been hoping for and her markings weren’t quite right. So, as promised, Arrin was allowed the decision if he wanted her or not. The foal wasn’t even standing yet and his decision was already made. The small dappled black horse was his! And she was rather downright cute! Her sire, a large spotty grey draft horse, had been kind enough to carry over his best qualities. Her long legs and rounded chest indicated she was going to be a strong, hefty thing and probably quite a good amount of hands tall. 

The kid fell in love with her at first sight. Her faintly spotted coat, to her blond mane and tail, the white blaze down her nose and forehead, and the little white sock on her back left leg. She was his.

“I like Nyx. I’m going to name her Nyx!” He said, letting her nuzzle her nose into his open palm. 

“Where’d you get a name like that?” Myra asked, gesturing for him to come along with his new friend.

“I dunno. I think I heard it somewhere. It sounds cool, though.” His grin was ear to ear as he proudly led her over to their property, the little filly squealing and kicking and eager to romp around. “Hey, where’s Dad at?” He asked, glancing around as they got closer to the pasture. “I figure he’d want to see her and all.”

“Probably at the bar again.” She sniffed disapprovingly. “He’ll be home soon.” 

Arrin kicked open the gate and took her lead off. The newly christened Nyx took off like a rocket, tumbling halfway across the field, her legs flailing everywhere before she rolled back up onto her hooves, shaking off, and charging off toward Willow, who seemed just as eager to have company.

“Well, we won’t wait for him for dinner. He can eat when he gets home. Come on, it should nearly be ready.” She shooed him away from watching his precious new companion and toward the water pump to wash up for dinner. They had only started eating when Sam wandered through the door, smiling and looking rather chipper.

“Hey Arrin, I saw something new out back. Little, black, already trying to kick her way out of the fence-”

“I love her.” Arrin declared, taking a bite out of some mutton he had cut from the roast in the center of the table. “I’m going to teach her everything Willow knows, and maybe I’ll teach her some cool tricks, too. … I’m also going to teach her not to kick anyone, especially me.” He paused, making a face. “I’m over being kicked by horses. Once was enough.” 

The atmosphere over dinner was unusually cheerful. Samuel, his father, was full of life and affectionate toward his wife and especially Arrin. They talked about Nyx, how things at the market went today, Nyx, gossip around the small town, Nyx, the Order that had started to gather some sort of items for safe keeping, and Nyx were a few topics brought up at the dinner table. It seemed like everything was back to normal, aside from the marks over his mother’s arms that were already starting to fade.


	6. Abandonment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The life that Arrin thought was coming back officially falls down around him.

This time, he couldn’t sleep through the yelling. Arrin had gotten so used to his parents fighting and his mother giving in to what his Father wanted that it was almost normal, now. The bruises and cuts she had no longer meant anything, nor could Arrin do anything about it. He tried to corner his mother and father about it, but they kept telling him it was fine and that sometimes, Daddy just gets mad. It was never directed at him, so perhaps it was okay? The feelings of guilt eventually faded.

This time though, something was different.

They hadn’t argued like this in years. Not since the subject of him getting a horse came up. That was so long ago - he was fourteen now. That had to be… three years, now? A crash jolted him from his bed as he ran out of his bedroom and came to a halt outside the main room. He peeked around the corner and saw a broken bottle in his mother’s hand and his father’s shoulder bleeding. 

“WHY DON’T YOU JUST GO BACK TO HER, THEN? IF SHE’S WHO YOU REALLY WANT, THEN LEAVE US ALONE.” She screeched, brandishing the broken bottle.

“STUPID WOMAN, YOU’LL PAY FOR THAT.” Sam took a swing at her face, his fist colliding with her cheek with a loud crack. She stumbled onto the floor, crying, holding her face.

“DAD!” Arrin ran around the corner and over to his mother, looking up at him, tears in his eyes. “What are you DOING? That’s Mom!” He wailed, pulling her close. 

“Yeah, that is, and she’s nothing but a whore. A good for nothing slut who has done nothing but kept me back all these years.” He spat, wiping the bit of blood off his arm.

“I-I did nothing wrong.” Stammered Myra, pushing herself off the floor. “I’ve kept t-this place running while you were off sleeping around w-with that bar wench.” She pushed Arrin away, forcing herself to stand, shaking. “What’s wrong? Does she not come with the commitment of having a family, Sam? Are we too much for you? Your wife and son?”

“Dad? Dad, what’s going on?” Arrin wasn’t dumb. He heard every word so far but he refused to believe it. 

“I can’t stand your mother, boy. And I can’t stand you, either.” He reached for a bottle of unknown liquid on the table, taking a swig of it. “I should have never settled down. This years of hard work and being a good ol’ family man thing. Pfft. Waste of my time.”

“But-” Arrin bit his lip, feeling hot tears form at the corner of his eyes. “But Dad!”

“I’m leaving.” He snapped, throwing the bottle down onto the floor and letting it shatter before grabbing his hat from the nearby shelf. 

“Samuel Thresh, you listen to me. The minute you walk out that door, you’re dead if you ever come back.” Myra spit out fragments of a tooth and a bit of blood, her eyes narrowed. “You’re nothing but a bastard and I’m sorry I ever thought I loved you.”

“Glad we feel the same, you stupid cunt.” With a snap, he turned and heaved the door open.

“Wait, wait-! But Dad-!” Arrin ran over and grabbed the back of his Dad’s shirt. Pain struck him across the face as he staggered backwards, stumbling and hitting the smoothed wooden chairs and table. His father stood, his hand still in a fist, his nostrils flared.

“Touch me again, you little shit, and I’ll break your nose.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve before disappearing through the door.

Arrin ignored the taste of blood he felt, wobbling over to the door and holding onto the frame. “DAD!” 

“Let him go, Arrin.” Myra whimpered, letting herself drop into one of the wooden chairs that her son nearly fell over. “He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

“No, NO! DAD!” He tried to follow him outside but his dad had already mounted Willow and took off, disappearing into the trees.

“Dad…” 

He fell to his knees and covered his face, crying. This was the man who taught him so much, how to do everything around the farm… they caught fireflies once. They played in the ocean and pretended to drown each other, dunking each other’s heads under the waves and cackling. He was the one who gave him the money for Nyx, the young mare sleeping in a patch of wildflower and moss lazily on the other side of the field… and now… and now he was gone.

“Arrin, come in here and shut the door.” Myra grabbed a nearby bottle of wine and wrestled the cork off with her teeth. “Go back to bed. We have work to do tomorrow. I hope you broke Nyx in with the plow- we’re going to need her if we want that corn in.”


	7. Begin Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life moves on.

The first few days after Arrin’s father’s left, there was a sense of sorrow and tenseness that hung through the small farmhouse. Myra spent a few days doing her best to show her son what had to be done amid moments of sudden crying or angry outbursts. The rye whiskey that was buried in the pantry for special toasts and occasions was finding itself on the kitchen table more and more. 

Arrin’s horse, Nyx, took to the plow easily, seeming to enjoy the hard work. Her high spirits made her a little difficult at first, her gait going from a nice strong walk to a gallop, the plow sloppily moving behind her, Arrin having to chase her down and grab the lead when she finally stopped. Once she learned, the fields were ready for seeds in no time. 

The boy was thankful for what his father had shown him, only having to look at a few books and notes in the house on things he didn’t quite know yet. It was fine until Myra said they needed to run to market and checked their funds. The coin purse was gone; the safe they used that they stored their savings in was wiped clean. With her husband gone and not a single penny to her name, Myra drank the rest of the whiskey, not moving from the table and only pointing at the door.

“Go on, Arrin. Do your work. Finish what you started.” 

Obediently, he ran outside, grabbing a rake as he went toward the field to rake out weeds and keep what they had growing in order.


	8. A Disgraced Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrin only suffers more at the hands of a now alcoholic mother, keeping himself busy with the work that needs to be done to survive.

Myra mutated from kind and loving mother to a monster. With the help of whatever alcohol she could get her hands on, her temperament changed wildly. Whenever she was sober, she was groaning, holding her head and laying down. Whenever she was drunk, she yelled at her only son, occasionally hitting him whenever she saw fit for any reason.

“You look more and more like your father every day.”

“You’ll amount to nothing more than a farmer, just like the rest of us.”

“You’re growing up to be such a charming young man. I bet you’re going to follow in your father’s footsteps, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean you didn’t get the corn planted today? You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?!”

“You’re not sick. Get out there and do your damn job.”

Anything was an excuse to berate him, to hit, to blame. The loving embraces she used to hold him in vanished within weeks, the stories she would tell him before bed were never finished, and the more time passed since Sam left, the more cold everything became. 

There were many nights Arrin hid in the stable with Nyx, sniffling, waiting to hear the sounds from within the house die down before he snuck inside to go to bed. After all, his horse was the only friend he had, now. He wanted another - maybe a dog? They had no money though so that was unlikely, but maybe if he worked hard enough…

The kid had received a rather rough beating that night, the reason for that being he wasn’t home before dark. It didn’t matter he made sure everything that needed to be done that day was completed, he was late. Myra slammed the leather belt down on the table next to a half empty bottle of cooking sherry and pointed down the hall. “Go to your room and don’t you dare leave.” She hissed, staring at her own son as he limped down the hall, doing his best not to show any pain or tears. He knew what was going to happen now. She was going to invite a strange man in and they would disappear into her bedroom for the night.

The noises were strange and a few times, Arrin slipped out of his room to peek through the cracks in the door and watch what was going on. Clearly, it was something he wasn’t supposed to see but he was transfixed by what he saw and heard. All he knew was by the next morning, his mother had some money to get them supplies from the market.


	9. A New Head of the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Childhood ends - a new chapter of Arrin's life begins.

Years passed by and the hard labor had transformed Arrin. He was a sturdy young boy that had exploded from a growth spurt into a burly young man. His muscles were trained from hours of work in the fields each day, handling livestock that came through the pens he had built and dragging wood and parts around to repairs things as they broke over time around the property. His father’s good looks had blessed him and soon, others began to notice who he was.

However, for as good looking as he was, the years of being shut off from others and the constant abuse had turned him cold. He was good at lying and sweet talking, having perfected it on his own mother to avoid new bruises and scars, and found that any other young girl could fall for him with the same tactics. Of course, they were all probably like his mother, so he promised himself to never get attached. Even more, he’d make them hurt like he did, expose them for the emotional wrecks they were. 

Even other men weren’t safe from his manipulative games, though those affairs were a little less discussed.

His mother? No longer a problem. He had overpowered her long ago, keeping her locked inside the house for most of the day. She had turned quite mad and was only a liability to him. How he loved the day he finally snapped, how she thought she could hit him just once more only for him to punch her straight across her jaw. She was sent crashing to the floor, crying, and Arrin just laughed. Anytime she tried, he shut her down to where she was no longer the one holding him captive.

The property was his and she was only being kept around so no one would find out how insufferable his mother was or so she wouldn’t bring shame onto whatever family they had left.

The only things that mattered in his life was his animals, whatever he had to his name, and his dignity. Everything and anyone else were merely tools for him to use at his disposal.


End file.
